


Lights Out

by deadfvrst



Series: Aparkalypse [2]
Category: Bandom, Waterparks (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Fluff, Gen, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 16:51:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14193405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadfvrst/pseuds/deadfvrst
Summary: “Calling it bedtime would undermine  the gravity of the situation,” Geoff argued in a hushed voice. The dim light of outside seeped through the drawn curtains, outlining his face.“Gravity? More like grave-ity, ha.”, Awsten murmured.





	Lights Out

“Aw, tits.” Geoff muttered under his breath.

“What’s it?”, Otto called from the other room. His head peaked into the door, his gaze about hip height, leaned back as far as the wheel chair would allow.

Geoff slid a hand down his face and sighed, “You didn’t hear that, did you?”

“Hear what?”, Otto asked. He pushed himself further back, the wheels of the chair squeaking. He stood up and kicked it behind himself so it slid and bounced against the wall. 

“Jeez,” Geoff cringed at the sound it made as it clinked and finally fell over, wheel squeaking still, even as it sat toppled over. Otto just grinned, pleased with himself.

Geoff shook his head, leaning against the desk beside him. The whole place was cluttered and gross. Dust blanketed every surface, even flew in flocks of invisible v’s making you choke if you inhaled too quickly. 

A door slammed from downstairs, and the whole house shuddered with it. Geoff sighed, and Otto looked back towards where the stairs met the hallway. Heavy-booted footsteps and the chiming of a bag being dragged up the steps told them it was—

“Hey guys,” Awsten greeted, his voice was rough with the grit. Dirt flecked his pants and face, but his shirt was uniform. 

“Hey,” Otto said, stepping aside as Awsten dragged the sack of shit from the top stair into the room. Geoff stopped himself from grimacing at the clanking noise the bag made as Awsten dropped it open onto the ground. Cans and random garbage erupted from the opening the second he let go and the smell was putrid.

“Gross,” Geoff said, standing up from the desk and picking up a can that had rolled up to his foot. The wrapper had been peeled back and off but it wasn’t open, the best before date was due a year ago. His nose wrinkled.

“What the hell happened here?”, Awsten asked, he scanned the room and his eyes landed on Geoff.

The desk, in the corner of the room, was a blackened burnt mess of radio equipment. The cut chord of a pair of headphones rested around Geoff’s neck and he looked pretty put out.

Awsten rolled his eyes and huffed, one part amusement, two parts annoyed. He took a step back, staring at Otto over his shoulder and raising his eyebrows like, ‘can you believe this?’

Otto just shrugged, and stepped into the doorway to lean against it. Awsten sighed loudly, “Fucken great.”, he muttered.

Geoff dropped the can in his hand and kicked back into the trash pile, “Yeah, nothing like eating expired rando bullshit from abandoned family homes.”, he retorted.

Awsten clenched his jaw. They were tired, it was late, they had fewer supplies, they were all they had. Plenty of reasons not to pick a fight, “Can we just—“, plenty of reasons, “Can you just not, please?”

“Probably,” Geoff shrugged, he toed the can he’d dropped and kept his eyes to the floor.

“In my defence,” said Otto, “That radio is like, 20 years old.”

Awsten smiled, “So it wasn’t...?”, he looked at Geoff, and then turned back to Otto, “So are you, though.”

“So am I, what?”, Otto asked.

“Guys,” Geoff interjected, “it’s Time.”

Awsten’s shoulders slumped, “Time. You could call it anything,” he complained, gathering up the cans and putting them into the bag. He mimicked Geoff dumbly, “Guys, it’s late. Guys, it’s dusk. Guys, it’s bedtime.”, he slipped back to his normal voice, “I would even specifically prefer you called it bedtime.”, he said, gathering the last can and tying the bag off again.

Otto hurried over to grab the bag from Awsten’s grip, which earned him a look of protest that meant nothing. He hauled the thing over his shoulder, and they all made the grim journey down the stairs and further still into the basement. 

It was built like a panic room, heavy metal doors at every entrance, but the decor was fairly comforting. They’d been staked out down there for a few months, and if the place wasn’t so secure they’d have moved on weeks ago.

The dead only walk at night, and they’re smarter than video games made them out to be because they’re not really zombies. They’re still people, real humans, functional and capable of feeling. After the initial internal moral struggle, hunger would eventually set in, and that’s when they’d feast. Which was worse, the conscious decision to Eat.

The boys, sat huddled in the centre of the basement in a circle, had been completely alone together since the first month of the outbreak last year sometime. Geoff, for whatever reason, kept track of the date but Awsten thought it was frivolous and Otto didn’t mind either way but appreciated the sentiment. 

“Calling it bedtime would undermine the gravity of the situation,” Geoff argued in a hushed voice. The dim light of outside seeped through the drawn curtains, outlining his face.

“Gravity? More like grave-ity, ha.”, Awsten murmured.

The quiet settled between them, and a long moment passed before Otto said, drawled, “Zombies...”

Awsten frowned, head rested against his knees, “Not yet. It’s early enough, still.”

A tap at the window shattered that thought almost immediately, the drag of fingernails on glass. They all jumped despite themselves, and drew in closer.

Geoff laughed softly, “Spoke too soon, huh?”


End file.
